


cosmic hero

by greninja



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, IDK basically tw: lusamine, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Other, Recreational Drug Use, like all that stuff is present mostly in implication but fyi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 19:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18666523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greninja/pseuds/greninja
Summary: now you gotta change addresses again, if they knew where the fire was they'd put it out / someone's knocking on your door, fire turned towards me with an open mouth / and if you don't come home tonight, you will never call it home again / and if you need some peace and quiet, there is room for all in heaven(gladion remembers the day his father disappeared like it was yesterday, and today, and every day. stuck like gum in his brain, slowing the firing of synapses. he is stuck on that day, progenitor of all troubles.)





	cosmic hero

**Author's Note:**

> have sat on this idea for 2 years, finally getting it out? not betaed, sorry for any wonky bits

Dude, one Skull grunt quips, you can’t swallow that shit. Gum stays in your system for, like, seven years before it gets fully digested.

Fuck you, says another. Don’t fuck with me. I’m gonna do what I’m gonna do.

No, dude, I swear, the first bites back. I heard it on TV.

Gladion rolls his eyes. He’s sitting in a dilapidated Po Town house. The windows are smashed out, and the dampness of the rain seeps into the room, its patter outside a relaxing underscore. He’s sixteen years old and he’s picking crud out from under his nails as the ragtag group of Skull grunts pass around a blunt. The fragrant smoke makes his eyes water. He fucking hates these guys, but he doesn’t really have anywhere else to wait out the storm. It’s his fault, anyway.

Another voice pipes up. Can I get a hit?

God, these guys are annoying. His mind keeps thumbing over the idea, though, of something that sticks with you for what feels like forever. Of how dangerous it is to dwell on that shit, because then it won’t ever pass.

He remembers the day his father disappeared like it was yesterday, and today, and every day. Stuck like gum in his brain, slowing the firing of synapses. He is stuck on that day, progenitor of all troubles.

 

–

 

His father wakes him up on that morning, the last time Gladion remembers seeing him. It was weird. Usually Wicke wakes him up. 

Mohn yanks the covers off of his sleeping son. Morning chill and sea breeze wake Gladion up, perishing his memory of drowsy warmth, and he rolls out of bed.

"Your mom and Lillie are already dressed and downstairs." Mohn speaks, and leaves the room, playfully smiling. He is already wearing his work uniform.

"Yeah, I’ll get ready now, it’ll just be a minute," Gladion calls out. "Wait, dad?"

Mohn’s head appears in the doorway again. "Yeah?"

"Why aren’t you coming with us today? Mom was really excited for this trip. Like, for doing something as a family." Gladion is twelve. He does not see his father’s shoulders tense or his heart drop. "It’s just one day of work you have to miss. We were gonna go to Hau’oli Beach, and you were gonna show me and Lillie how to catch Pokémon in the water. It sucks doing that with mom, she always gets too angry ‘cause she’s so impatient."

"I’m sure you’ll have fun, Gladion. I’m sorry I can’t go. Look out for your sister." He shuts the door as he walks out.

Gladion gets dressed. He sits on his bed as he ties his shoes, scrutinizing his reflection in the window. His bangs reach just below his nose. His mom hates them, wants him to cut them off. She’d hate him wearing his shoes on the bed, too. Maybe that’s why he does it. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t brush his hair, either.

Lillie’s waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. She is eight years old and wide-eyed and quick to scare, and she looks at her brother like she’s seen a ghost.

If anyone ever tried to hurt her, Gladion thinks, he’d kill them.

"Mama and daddy are yelling at each other."

How about that, he thinks. He does hear a shouting match somewhere, muffled by white walls.

Mohn’s voice echoes in the hallway. "Lusamine, you know how important this is. I have to be there."

"That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it, Mohn," responds their mother. "You always leave—"

"You know you don’t have the high ground, Lusamine. You know you can’t call me a bad parent—"

"Oh, get off your high fucking horse, Mohn, you’re no better than I am—"

"I don’t fucking, I don’t know, spend all my time with my kids criticizing every fucking thing they do—"

"Every day you’re holed up in the fucking lab, it’s like they don’t even have a father—"

Maybe the venue and the details change, but Gladion’s heard this fight unfold so many times. He grabs Lillie’s hand and drags her along in the other direction.

"Let’s go find Wicke, Lillie. If we ask nice enough, maybe she’ll let us have malasadas for breakfast."

 

"So, what do you two want to do first?"

Gladion and Lillie lean precariously past the rail of the catamaran, laughing as salty ocean water hits their faces in beads. It’s only on days like this, when they leave the artificial island they call home and sail out to the big cities on Akala and Melemele, that Gladion ever sees his sister genuinely relaxed and happy. 

She screams with glee, scampering down the deck. "Look, brother, there’s a Wailord over there!"

Gladion follows her, quietly watching to make sure she doesn’t fall overboard in her excitement. "Woah, it’s huge!"

"Lillie? Gladion?"

His head turns. "Yeah, mom?"

"I asked you and your sister what you want to do in the city. We’re almost there." Lusamine stands with her arms crossed, eyeing her children as if she disapproves of their fun. Even though today’s supposed to be a bit of a vacation, she’s dressed as impeccably as usual, white outfit perfectly pressed and hair smoothed into its usual helmet shape. She taps one high-heeled foot on the deck, annoyed.

"Gladion said that daddy said that we could go catch Pokémon on the beach, and then we can go get ice cream in the fancy hotel restaurant, and—"

"Sounds great, Lillie," says Lusamine, clearly only half-listening. She yells vaguely in another direction. "Wicke! When we get to the docks, take them to the beach. Be done by six. We’ll meet back at the boat."

"Wait." Gladion hops back from the rail. "Mom, you’re not coming?" Lillie’s head whips around at this, hair shaking violently in the wind.

"I’m going to the Aether Foundation office in the city. There’s something I need to check on."

"Oh. Okay."

Lillie grabs Gladion’s arm, eyes wide as saucers. "We’re still going to the beach, right?"

"Yeah, of course."

 

Wicke takes Gladion and Lillie to the beach, sitting back as she watches them dig around in the firm, damp sand by the ebb of the water. They find Sandygasts burrowed just beneath their feet. Lillie swears she even sees a Wimpod.

It’s a good day. It’s freer without Lusamine looming over. On days like this it seems she tries to entertain the idea of enjoying herself, but stands back from it still, aloof and scornful.

They get ice cream with berries in the fancy hotel restaurant. As evening closes in, they walk back to the dock, tired and sunburnt and happy. Their mother stands expectantly, ushering them onto the boat. It’s clear she wants to go home.

The ride is quiet, save for the sloshing of the sea and boat. Lillie shivers. Gladion puts his jacket on her.

They disembark at the artificial island they call home, Aether Foundation’s base. Gladion and Lillie start walking to the private part of the compound, where the family’s mansion awaits, and almost miss their mother being held back by one of the lab attendants.

Gladion recognizes him to be Faba, a gangly, shrill man whose movements are marked by rheumatism. Faba always tries to suck up to him and his sister, which he can’t understand. They’re just the bosses’ kids. What does he have to prove to them?

Lusamine is stopped by Faba’s grip, and she swivels to face him, wobbling in her high heels. He whispers something in her ear, and the color drains from her face. They run to the stairs, descending into the labs on the lower levels of the compound. Gladion hears the way his mother’s tall shoes clack on the brushed steel floor, and catches a glimpse of her looking more distraught than he’s ever seen her. 

He pokes his sister’s arm, forcing a laugh. "Race you back to the house?"

Lillie giggles, and starts running in response.

Gladion wonders if he imagines the echoing sound of his mother screaming. An hour later it is all too real, when a commotion in the foyer of the family’s house draws Gladion from his bedroom, quiet. He leans over the rail of the second floor balcony overhanging the entrance of the house.

Wicke’s ever-level voice creeps up the stairs. "Lusamine, it’s going to be okay—"

"No, it fucking won’t!" Lusamine screams back. "My husband is fucking gone, just fucking walked out on us—"

"They said it was an accident. They were using the new tools, and it was their first time trying to open a wormhole, accidents like this are bound to happen—"

"And of course I’m not there for it! He had to stay, had to fucking stay here today and if he’d just listened to me he’d still be—"

"We don’t know if he’s dead or not. The recovery team’s already at work. Once we know more about the mechanics—"

"He fucking left me, in the middle of our research. The research we started together. He can’t just get away with this—"

"Lusamine, you have to understand. Mohn’s disappearance was an accident. That’s what Faba’s saying. We have to go by his word, he’s the one who was there, in charge of that division of the—"

"He is not getting away with this. He’s not. He never listens to me, tries to do his own stupid shit, and always ruins everything. If he just listened to me, once. Don’t take his side—"

"There are no sides, it was an accident! There’s a certain risk involved in these things, you know—"

"I can’t fucking talk to you right now." Lusamine cuts off the shouting match, and stalks up the stairs, each of her footsteps reverberating in the cavernous white of the mansion. Gladion practically slides back to his room, gingerly shutting the door, trying desperately to make his presence unknown to his mother.

And that was the day Mohn disappeared.

 

–

 

Recently, Gladion has become familiar with the sharp fruity scent always mixed with his mother’s breath.

It introduces itself early in the evening, coating her presence as she haughtily steps into the family home, Wicke spotting her from behind. He’s always noticed his mom and dad smelling like clean and lab chemicals when coming home from work, frighteningly sterile, but this is different. The alcohol waits sharp under her tongue, curling out over the dinner table and making Gladion stiff with anticipation of something he doesn’t quite understand.

His mom and dad.

He noticed his mother getting worse after Mohn’s abrupt disappearance. The morning after, over the breakfast table (Lusamine almost never showed up to have breakfast with her children), she coldly announced that their father tragically disappeared in a lab accident the night before. So cold, like she didn’t care at all.

Lillie’s eyes watered and rounded. "Is he dead?" Her voice was meek, inoffensive. "Where’d daddy go?"

"He’s gone, that’s all. And get your elbows off the table," her mother snarled back, smacking the table. Lillie’s hands hid in her lap. She bit her lip.

She doesn’t deserve this, Gladion thought. She’s eight. His kid sister. How is anything her fault? Yes, their mom’s their mom, but she’s just eight. His kid sister.

Gladion decided not to say anything. Lusamine walked away, and Lillie began to cry. He got out of his chair and walked over to her, taking her in a hug.

"Mama’s being really scary, Gladion," she choked. "When’s daddy coming home?"

"I dunno, Lillie," he said, sounding more grim than comforting. "But we’re gonna be fine. I’m your big brother. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you."

 

And that was the morning after. In the weeks since, Gladion has watched the marked changes in their mother’s behavior close in, tendrils of some sinister thicket strangling her passive aggression, turning her words and actions into desperate shouts and blows and swipes, and she is reaching for her children. She is a woman possessed by grief, and rage. Gladion recognizes her, recognizes what he had first perceived as flashes beneath her calculated demeanor blossoming to life. 

He is twelve years old, he thinks. He is four years older than his sister. He thinks he saw this coming. He doesn’t know how to deal with his mother, who no longer acts like one. He is old enough to bear this. Older, to bear this. He holds up the cracking, leaking roof of Lusamine over their heads with his young hands. He will not let this fall on Lillie.

Lusamine’s frustration translates her controlling urges into short, quick bursts of anger. Cut your hair, Gladion, you look like shit. Stop walking with your head down, Lillie. Do you know who your mother is? Show your family some respect. Speak only when spoken to. Chew with your mouth closed and don’t fucking bother me while I’m working. Don’t ever go into the lab or I’ll throw you off this fucking island. Empty threats and juvenile taunts, all scented like sharp and fuel and sickly sweetness

She takes more of an interest in the lives of her children now, but not to their benefit. Prior to Mohn’s disappearance, Lusamine was the kind of mother who parented at arm’s length, letting Wicke do the heavy lifting for her. Now, feeling so powerless with Mohn’s disappearance, she chases the feeling of being in control.

It is Lillie who bears the brunt of it, at first. Perhaps it’s because she’s younger, more impressionable. Maybe because she’s the only daughter, and she’s becoming the spitting image of her mother. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t know how to fight back. Lusamine aggressively trains her into good behavior, imposing manners upon her like brands. She throws out all of her daughter’s clothes, replacing them all with those of her choosing. Soft white dresses, the same material as her own. Frills and lace and bows. If Lillie wasn’t demure before, her mother’s hovering beat it into her.

Gladion hates this. He hates watching Lillie’s innocence get taken advantage of. He hates seeing her flinch every time someone approaches her with a raised voice. He hates how Lusamine is hollowing her out.

But what can he do? He’s her child, too. He has to wear the stupid fucking bowties and slacks and tuck his shirt in and part his hair the way she likes it and slick it in the back, and he has to get lectured too, Lusamine spending hours raving to him about how he’s the man of the household and he has to act like it, or else she’ll shave his head.

He wants to scream. How is he gonna help Lillie?

One night, though, as Gladion watches Lusamine tilt back a bottle of shitty beer as she sits at the breakfast table, poring over a file of reports cryptically labelled "UB", he gets an idea. He rummages through kitchen drawers, keeping the sounds of his rustling as quiet as he can. He doesn’t feel like talking to his mother right now. He finds a short knife with a thick handle (he’s not sure what it’s meant for cutting) and a pair of scissors for trimming the fat off of meat. He pockets them both and makes his way back to his room, shoes tapping on the floor louder than he can bear. He thinks it’s stupid his mother’s making them wear shoes in the house.

In his bedroom, Gladion lays out all his dress shirts and slacks on the floor, giving them a thoughtful once-over. He begins slashing—long slits down the sides of pant legs,sleeves hacked off at different lengths, holes in places he thinks are funny. He cuts hems into fringes and lifts up the shredded garments, marveling in his handiwork. 

Why stop there? Knowing his mother is downstairs, he sneaks into her bathroom and steals a fat stick of eyeliner. Back in his room, he squints at his own reflection in the window, practicing drawing thick black curves around his eyes. It smudges beneath his fingers. He looks like a ghoul. His mother would hate it.

He loves it.

It’s. It’s like. Like he’s his own person for the first time. The pleated, parted politeness and subservience drilled into him isn’t who he wants to be. He likes mess! He wants to be loud and brash and lash out at his mother and fill the space he’s in and be crazy. She fights, he fights back.

Gladion cuts a few inches off the hem of his shirt. He knifes nicks into his belt. To finish off the look, he grandly hacks away at his hair. The left side’s now short. His bangs are choppy, and each piece falls at a different length. He looks badass. Badass enough to go up against Lusamine, even. He knows she’s going to lose her mind. Probably take her attention off of Lillie for at least a month.

Good. That’s what he’s going for.

Gladion is learning his reflection when he hears the creak of the door. He nearly jumps out of his skin, expecting the worst, and is relieved to see Lillie standing at the threshold of his room.

"Hey."

"What are you wearing?" Lillie asks, surprisingly forward.

"Trying out something new."

"Mama’s gonna kill you," she says in a mortified whisper.

"That’s why I’m doing it." He steals a glance at the clock. "You should go to bed. It’s really late."

"I know. But it’s midnight."

"Huh?"

"Happy birthday, big brother." Lillie smiles. He feels that warm feeling of home he’s missed.

Gladion had forgotten his own birthday. Whatever. He runs over to his sister, hugging her.

"Love you too, sis. Thanks."

Lillie flashes another grin and scampers down the hall.

 

"You’re not even going to wish me a happy birthday, mother?"

Lusamine is fuming. It’s too early to be dealing with this. Her face is redder than Gladion’s ever seen before.

"I don’t know where your crazy attitude is coming from, but I swear to god, you better stop it right now or I’ll throw you overboard."

Lillie snickers. She goes quiet when Lusamine glares at her.

"I turn thirteen today, mother."

"And I couldn’t care any fucking less! Wipe that shit off your face. You’re a young man, not—"

"Not what?"

His mother smacks the wall with her closed fist. "Just go change your clothes. I don’t want to look at you until you do."

"You don’t own me. Mom."

That’s what does Lusamine in. She lunges towards Gladion, her presence pushing him back into an open chair. She looms over him.

"Nothing you do is without my approval!" Her breath is minty, disguised. "You might think you’re all that, but you’re just a little boy and you can’t do anything to me. You can’t disobey me. I am your law. If you won’t do as I say, then maybe there isn’t a place for you here in my household."

"Fine. I just might leave, then."

"Put me out of my misery, will you?"

Gladion runs upstairs. From the corner of his eye, he sees Wicke grasp Lillie’s hand and lead her away from Lusamine.

 

He doesn’t run away. Not yet. The whole point of pissing off his mother, anyway, was to turn himself into the target of her anger. Draw it away from Lillie, protect her from that rage. With every day she becomes more aware, more emotionally intelligent.

"You don’t have to keep getting in trouble for my sake, brother," she offers one night, as the pair of siblings sit in her room, messing with a Pokedex they swiped from the research labs earlier. Sneaking around together has become their favorite pastime.

"I know, but I’m the older brother. If anyone has to take shit from her, it should be me." Gladion scrolls to the end of the Alola Dex. He notes a couple blank entries, and wonders if they’ve got something to do with the new projects Aether has been developing.

"I guess, but it’s been so long." Lillie scoots towards her brother. "Like a year. I remember because you started doing all this stuff on your birthday last year, and then it was your birthday again last week."

Right, remembers Gladion. He’s fourteen.

"Don’t you get tired of her yelling at you all the time?"

Gladion huffs. "I mean, it’s hard. But I deal." He passively drops the Pokedex on the floor. It lands with a clack.

"But doesn’t it hurt?"

"I guess."

"It’s not so bad when mother makes me go shopping with her. It’s really embarrassing when she yells at the salespeople, though."

"God, that is so like her."

"She wants me to do cotillion so I can become even more of a lady."

"The hell’s that supposed to mean?"

Lillie shrugs.

They wait in silence a few beats more. Gladion is splayed out on the floor. Lillie absentmindedly picks at her split ends.

"Are you sure you’re okay, brother?" Lillie’s expression is so sincere, he doesn’t want to lie to her.

"It’s hard, dealing with mom. You know that." He sits up. "But I’ll be okay. It doesn’t matter how mean to me she is, or how much she yells at me, or whatever she threatens me with. I’m fine. I just want to make sure you’re safe, is all."

"Thank you."

"You just can’t be afraid to bite back, you know?" Gladion’s mind is suddenly charged with a new sense of urgency. "Like, if she ever tries to do anything to you, you gotta stand up for yourself. You can yell just as loud as her, or just leave the room, like, I’m not putting up with this today. Go find Wicke, have her deal with mom. I dunno, just. You deserve better than just being her—fucking, plaything, or whatever."

"You’re talking like you’re going to leave."

"What? No. I’m just giving you advice. You’re my little sister, it’s what I’m supposed to do." He picks up her hand. "You’re the best sister I could’ve asked for."

Lillie laughs at him. "Gladion, you’re being so embarrassing! You’re so cheesy!"

He simply smiles at her and leaves the room.

 

Gladion’s crouching behind a desk in one of the sub-level research labs. Secret Lab A, reads the bleak type on the door. He’s been sneaking down here every day, out of boredom. He’s eavesdropping on a conversation between his mother and Faba.

"So the mask asks as an inhibitor?" Lusamine points to a strange-looking contraption resting on another table. It looks like a helmet, but for what, he can’t imagine.

"Yes," responds Faba in his shrill, annoying way. "Putting it on the Silvally’s head nullifies its powers and placates it. Much easier to get it in the Pokéball that way."

"Nullifies it, huh? I like the sound of that." She picks up a Pokéball from the same table, gingerly cupping it in her hand.

"We’ve also developed a series of drives, a companion project." Faba presents her with a case of discs. "Silvally takes on the type of whichever one is used. They can be changed out, depending on which Ultra Beast one is trying to capture."

"Perfect. Great job, Faba." He looks smug, self-congratulatory at Lusamine’s words. She gives him a look, and he stiffens again. "Do we have a codename for the neutralized form of Silvally? For the reports?"

"No, ma’am. We haven’t discussed that yet."

"Let’s call it ‘Type: Null.’" Lusamine straightens her back as she speaks, lifting her chin.

"A great choice, as always."

"Stop trying to suck up to me, Faba. It’s unbecoming. You’re a grown man." Lusamine throws the Pokéball in her hand, releasing the Pokémon inside. It’s huge, Gladion thinks. Like, freakishly. Taller than his mom, and she’s a tall lady. Is this the Silvally they’ve been talking about all week?

"Let’s mask it, ma’am."

Lusamine and Faba have to work together to carry the mask over to the snarling creature at the back of the room. Faba holds onto it while Lusamine forces its head down and straps the mask on. It bucks against them both for a moment, then stills. It sits on the floor, folding its legs beneath its body, head bowing.

Gladion can’t take his eyes off of it.

"Very good," coos Lusamine in her sickly, rude way. "Our perfect tool. We can do whatever we want with it, can’t we? We need obedience. There’s no margin for error in this work. It’s totally under our control, which is perfect." The words send a chill through Gladion’s whole body. It’s just how she treats her children, too.

She summons Type: Null back into the Pokéball and sets it on the desk. As soon as she and Faba empty the room, some great dam of anger within Gladion’s chest breaks. He springs up from behind the desk, runs to grab Type: Null’s Pokéball and a few of the discs, and tiptoes out of the lab.

It’s just one more floor down to the docks. He takes the emergency stairs, too scared of running into his mother in the elevator. Low-level Aether employees are milling about, absorbed in their respective tasks. Gladion spots one man standing by a speedboat, the key hanging out of his back pocket. He somehow gets away with grabbing it. None of the grunts even notice what’s happening until they hear the aggressive chop of the motor, until they see the wake trailing behind the stolen boat.

But you can’t do anything to me now, Gladion thinks, too deliriously happy to consider the reality of the situation. I’m already gone.

He emerges into the daylight, sunlight playing in strokes and curves against the shifting surface of the water. He vaguely registers the sounds of sirens coming from Aether Paradise, and accelerates as much as he can.

He pats the Pokéball in his pocket.

We’re gonna be free from now on. Both of us.

 

–

 

As Gladion gets closer and closer to land, the weight of what he’s just done hits him, a brick to the head. What is he thinking? He doesn’t have any sort of plan, but it’s not like he can just go home now. Probably has a better chance of surviving on the streets than back with his mother. He doesn’t even have a change of clothes.

Lillie.

He didn’t even say goodbye to Lillie, and now he has no way of getting in contact with her.

Oh, god. He’s so, so, stupid. Fuck.

All he can do, Gladion thinks, is pray for her safety.

He reaches a small dock and gets off the boat. He unceremoniously tosses the keys in the water. No going back now.

Gladion’s had experience enough with sailing to know vaguely how to navigate to Akala. Okay, so maybe he didn’t quite reach Heahea as he’d hoped, but this was a city. 

He stands stupidly on the dock, holding three discs, fanned out in his hand. He should probably get a bag for those.

Gladion feels around in his back pocket, and thank god, his wallet’s there. Being from a family as rich as his, he’s got a nice amount of money on him, more than just pocket change.

He goes into the first clothing store he sees, and cringes—everything’s so touristy. He picks out black jeans, a red t-shirt, a black sweater, and red sneakers, which are all fine, but he has to force himself not to grimace as the cashier rings up the fanny pack. The store doesn’t sell any other kinds of bags. He checked.

He slips on his new purchases in the changing room and leaves, resignedly buckling the fanny pack around his waist. He cradles his old, defaced dress clothes in his arms like a swaddled baby.

He throws the bundle in the first trash can he sees.

Gladion makes one more stop at the Pokémon Center, dropping a few more dollars on some potions and Pokéballs.

He has no idea what to do now. He sits on the curb in front of the Pokémon Center, and waits.

 

As the evening darkens, Gladion does not notice the woman in the shop across the street from him. He doesn’t see her watching him, concern knotting up her face.

It comes as a great surprise to him when she walks outside, bell on the shop’s door tinkling, and crosses the street. She wears bracelets wrapped all around her body, and her hair is tousled in a way that almost seems fun. Her vibe is so different from his mother’s, Gladion thinks.

"Hey, kid, you know it’s supposed to rain tonight, right?" Her hands are on her hips.

"Didn’t know that."

"You should get inside."

"Uh huh." Gladion is taken aback at the prospect of an adult giving a shit about him.

"Do you even have anywhere to go?"

"No. I don’t."

The woman offers her hand. "Here. I’ll make you dinner." She helps Gladion off the ground, and walks him across the street, to the warm shopfront, fragrant with incense.

 

"You own the whole store?"

"Yeah! It’s been in my family a long time. I’ve helped run it since I was around your age, I think."

Olivia, as Gladion had learned, led him inside and directed him to a staircase in the back of the store, promising she’d be up in a few minutes, after she closed for the night. He guessed she was about ten years older than him. Her apartment was above the shop. Gladion sits awkwardly on her couch, next to an obscene number of Stufful dolls.

"So, you. Do you. Like. Stones?"

"They’re pretty fascinating, when you think about it," Olivia calls from the kitchenette. "Evolutionary stones are beautiful in and of themselves, but it’s so amazing how they act as catalysts for Pokémon evolution. It’s really something to see."

"Cool." Gladion feels like he’s being watched by all the Stufful—they’re not just on the couch. The dolls line high shelves that trace the perimeter of the room. "Are you a trainer?"

"Yeah! Rock types are my specialty." She turns away from the stove for a moment and produces a Pokéball from her pocket, throwing it to reveal a Lycanroc. "You can pet him, if you want. He likes being scratched behind the ears."

Lycanroc curls up at Gladion’s feet, whimpering for attention. He thinks it’s funny to see such a fierce-looking creature acting like this. Lillie would like him.

He notices a bowl sitting on Olivia’s dresser. It’s full of opalescent gray stones, all with the same symbol engraved.

"Z-crystals?"

Olivia laughs. "Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention. I’m kind of Akala’s kahuna."

"That’s so cool!"

"Hah, thanks. I don’t mention it to everyone as soon as I meet them. I like maintaining some sense of normalcy in my life." She turns the burner on the stove off. "Food’s ready, by the way. You can come to the table."

Dinner is more than Gladion could’ve asked for. This city, Konikoni, is right on the water, and the fish is so fresh. He eats like he’s never seen food before. Like he never will again.

"Never found out what your name was, kid," Olivia says between bites.

"Oh. Gladion."

"Not to pry too much or anything, but, like, where are you from? I’ve lived here my whole life and I swear, I’ve never seen you before."

"Um. I’m from another island." Gladion thinks. "Melemele."

"Damn, how’d you end up here, then?"

Gladion swallows hard. "I ran away from home."

Olivia drops her fork. "Jeez, Gladion! You’re like, what, thirteen?"

"Fourteen. And kids younger than that go on Pokémon journeys all the time."

"Fair, but this feels. Different." She looks so worried. "They have homes to go back to. You know, if need be."

"My mom is verbally and emotionally abusive."

Olivia seems to be at a complete loss. Instead of saying anything, she shovels more food into her mouth.

"But it’s fine. I’m gone now. She can’t hurt me anymore."

"Heavy stuff, kid. I’m really sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help—"

"I’m fine—"

"At least stay here tonight, okay? You can sleep on my couch. I can’t just let you spend the night in the rain."

"Okay."

They spend the remainder of the meal in silence. Gladion gets up and rinses his dish in the sink.

Olivia walks up next to him, doing the same. "You know, it’s not your fault."

"What?"

"The way your mother treated you. I don’t know her, or her life, but whatever it is that’s hurting her isn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for her problems."

Gladion puts down his dish with a clink.

"I don’t know if that’s what you needed to hear right now. I don’t know. But it’s what I’d want to hear. And it’s what I believe. You’re too young to bear that sort of emotional burden. I don’t know."

He stares at his hands. Clean, but it doesn’t feel like it. "Thanks, Olivia."

She just smiles.

Gladion doesn’t sleep at all that night. He lies face up on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

Lillie, he thinks. If I concentrate hard enough on you, will you be able to hear me? Aren’t sibling telepathic bonds a thing? It sounds like a thing. But Lillie, whatever’s going on—do you know it’s not your fault? It’s not your fault. It’s not. 

I love you, sis.

 

"Are you sure you’re good to go?" In the morning, Olivia fusses over Gladion as if she’s his mother. "Did you take enough snacks? If you need more, just tell me. You have money? A map? Are you sure that sweater’s warm enough?"

"Yeah, I’m good." Gladion finds the care and affection so confusing, but he had grown up in a household where his existence was not inherently enough to gain him any respect. Go figure.

"And you’re sure you don’t need to stay another few days? Seriously, if you need any help, let me know." She gives him her phone number, written on a small flap of paper. He folds and drops it in the fanny pack.

Gladion puts on his bravest face. "I’m good. Thank you for everything, Olivia." 

"Of course."

He steps out of the shop, listens to the bell tinkle. He doesn’t see her again.

 

–

 

The first time Gladion lets Type: Null out of the Pokéball, it jumps on him, like an overly enthusiastic dog. It sports huge claws, which slash randomly at his sleeves and pant legs, as well as making one long, diagonal slice down the center of his sweater, revealing the red shirt underneath. Gladion is reminded of the night he slashed all his clothes. He’s almost comforted by the familiarity of the rips and tears.

With time, they get more in sync with each other. Type: Null has nearly a foot on Gladion’s height, but acts as if totally unaware of its size.

Gladion makes his way north on Akala. He adds a Zubat to his team. He doesn’t talk much to anyone, slipping in and out of Pokémon Centers without a word.

He checks into a motel on Route 8 indefinitely. Every day the owner comes to call on him in his room, asking if he’s ever gonna check out. Gladion pays the fee silently. The owner stops checking in on him after a week.

Gladion had thought himself so brave and adventurous at first, running away and trying to get on by himself. It didn’t take long for the loneliness to become unbearable, the pressure crushing.

He spends more days than he’d like to admit holed up in his room, Type: Null curled up on the floor beside his bed. Without mincing words, he is depressed. He thinks about Lillie, how much he misses her, and what he can do to help her.

Nothing, of course. He can barely support himself. He’s a teenage boy who was stupid and thinking only of himself and made everything worse for everyone. How could he possible help his sister? He’s so fucking stupid.

 

As with his meeting Olivia, Gladion once again found himself in the right place at the right time.

It’s his fifth week in the motel. He’s leaving his room one morning, planning on visiting the Pokémon Center, when he overhears a conversation in the parking lot.

"Dude, we are gonna be, like, stacked. These people are so rich," a man says loudly to his friend. His hair is bleached to white, and a cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth. The necklace draped around his neck is unbelievably tacky. He seems too confident for someone who’s gone outside looking the way he does.

"Are they for real though? Like this is legit?" The second voice belongs to a woman whose hair is pink and yellow and reaches the small of her back in long plaits. Her eyeliner is so thick that it dwarfs her eyes. She still looks better than necklace guy.

"Yeah, Plu, this is our big break. Like, Skull’s gonna dominate."

"Sick."

Gladion is intrigued. He needs money. Badly. He makes his move.

"Hey guys."

The pair look him over as if he’s a rather large roach. "Who’s this clown?" asks the woman.

"I was wondering about your business deal." Gladion walks closer. "If I could get in on it."

"Are you fucking with me?" The man takes out his cigarette and laughs so hard he coughs. "You’re like, what, twelve?"

"Fourteen."

The woman screams. "You hear that, Gu? Fourteen whole years old!" They cackle, whipping their heads back and breathing laboriously through it all.

"I ran away from my abusive mother and am in need of some extra cash, if you wouldn’t mind considering me."

They stop laughing. The woman gives her friend a grave look. He seems shaken to his core.

She turns back. "What’s your name?"

"Gladion."

"You a trainer?"

"Something of it." He releases Type: Null from its Pokéball. Its presence in the parking lot is how one might imagine that of a horse. Necklace guy snaps out of his fog and gawks at it.

"What the hell is that?"

"My Pokémon."

The two exchange another look, and Necklace offers Gladion a handshake.

"Name’s Guzma. This is Plumeria, my sis."

Gladion stiffens. "I have a sister."

"Cool. Well, Plu’s not my blood relative, but you get the picture."

Plumeria smiles. "We were runaways too, when we found each other. Now, see, we run the biggest—uh, financial syndicate—"

"Nice way of putting it. Gang."

"Whatever, Guzma. We run a group called Team Skull. Biggest of our kind in Alola. See, we’re all about getting in on good business opportunities. Making money."

"A lot of the people who join us are just like you," adds Guzma. "No home, no family. We’re trying to support all those kids. They’re like our little brothers and sisters."

"Bull. I’m the older sister, you’re the fucking schoolyard bully I have to protect them from."

Guzma snorts. "Whatever. Anyway, we’ve got a new operation going on. Gonna get paid a shitton for it."  
"We’re supposed to catch this Pokémon, Cosmog."

Gladion’s head quirks at this—he remembers hearing or reading something about that name. Something to do with the Ultra Beasts that Lusamine was researching.

The Pokémon that Silvally was designed to fight.

Gladion considers this. "Who’s hiring you for this mission, if you don’t mind my asking?"

Guzma kneels down and puts out his cigarette on the ground. "We’re not at liberty to disclose that, but I can promise that they’re paying handsomely."

If he can get a job, thinks Gladion, he can make sure he never has to go back home. Never depend on his mother again. He could even break Lillie out, once he’s stable enough, and they could live far away from her, and he’d never have to see his sister cry again.

"So." Gladion widens his stance, stops slumping. "Can I join your operation? I need the money."

"Look at this kid, Gu, getting straight to the point."

"Maybe not join the team, but I don’t mind letting him in on the whole racket." Guzma speaks as if Gladion isn’t there. "He’ll be our enforcer."

Plumeria gives him a thoughtful once-over. "Cute little title. They’ll love him back in Po Town."

"Isn’t that on Ula’ula?"

"Yeah, kid. We run our operation across Akala and Ula’ula. Kind of a big deal, you know."

Gladion nods.

"We’re actually catching the ferry back over to Malie in a bit. Leave with us now, and your job starts immediately?"

"We’ll pay for your ferry ticket," adds Plumeria.

What the hell.

"Let me go pack my things."

 

It takes a ferry, a bus, and, finally, a long walk, but Gladion finally makes it to Po Town, following Plumeria and Guzma. The trip takes all day and stretches into the night. The barest traces of dawn light peek over the walls of the Skull base, and he’s exhausted.

Po Town is a dump. Somehow, Gladion isn’t surprised.

"Home sweet home," drawls Plumeria. Even in the dark, it’s obvious she’s rolling her eyes. "The buildings on this side of the road are general grunt housing. You can lie down anywhere you want. Meet us at the mansion at noon for your first assignment." She gestures down the road to a huge, crumbling house at the end. The grandiosity of the architecture is juxtaposed with broken balconies and sloppily-nailed boards and grimy windows.

Gladion nods. He goes to bed.

 

He gets along fine with the Skull grunts. They’re all older than him—two years, at least—and they take liberty in teasing him, for being the youngest, for not even being a real member of Team Skull, for acting so uptight all the time. He doesn’t let it bother him, though. He’s only here to do his job and get what he needs out of it. Besides, it’s almost comforting—he’s never really had friends outside his family. Being around so many other young people is a welcome change of pace.

Guzma sends him between Ula’ula and Akala regularly to oversee missions. He stays in his old motel whenever he’s back on Akala.

Amid what pans out to be many dreary months, Gladion finds happy moments to fixate on. He catches a Sneasel while stationed up in the mountains on Ula’ula. Plumeria helps him pierce his ears and teaches him how to do his eyeliner properly. Maybe he has crushes on a couple boys, whatever, it’s embarrassing. Not gonna talk about it. He marks Lillie’s birthday as it passes, hoping she’s okay. He gives sibling telepathy another half-hearted try.

I miss you, Lillie. Hope you’re doing fine. I promise I’m coming back for you as soon as I can.

 

–

 

Gladion rolls his eyes. He’s sitting in a dilapidated Po Town house. The windows are smashed out, and the dampness of the rain seeps into the room, its patter outside a relaxing underscore. He’s sixteen years old and he wishes he were anywhere else but here, a room full of Skull grunts getting high out of their minds and having an idiotic conversation.

Plumeria’s voice is carried in through the open window frame.

"Gladion, come outside. We have something for you."

He quietly stands up from his perch, brushing at the pilling on his sweater sleeve. He walks outside, savoring the cold of the rain bursting on his face. Plumeria waits expectantly, still wearing only a tank top under her oversized raincoat.

"What’s up?" Gladion steals a glance at Plumeria’s dark nail polish. He should try that out sometime.

"Reports of Cosmog from Melemele. Three kids running around with it. Around Island Challenge age."

"How’d it end up with them?"

"Dunno, but our source is saying they’re headed to Akala. We want you to find them there, try to gauge their strength. Find out whatever you can about them. Don’t worry about taking Cosmog, we have another recovery team going in, but do keep an eye on the girl who’s carrying it. Apparently, she’s trapped it in a duffel bag with a Pokéball design on it. She’s got long blonde hair and green eyes."

Some crazy kid with a stolen Pokémon. A rare one. Blonde hair, green eyes.

Gladion freezes, his breath hitching in his throat. This scene is too familiar.

No. There’s no way it’s Lillie. There are plenty of people who fit that description, he thinks. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. It’s probably nothing.

"Gladion? Still with me?" Plumeria is snapping right in his face, trying to will some sort of recognition from his glazed-over eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, sounds good. When does the next ferry leave?"

 

–

 

And, of course, it had been Lillie. He hadn’t come face to face with her immediately, but the way those other kids talked about their absent friend—Moon and Hau, their names were—it had to have been her, and then he ran into them again on Ula’ula, and they were looking for her, and—oh, god—he knew the only place she could’ve disappeared to.

He went home for the first time in two years, through the doors of that damned mansion, and his first sight of Lillie was her arguing with Lusamine, and it was almost too much to bear.

He wanted to scream. Lillie! Lillie! I’m here! Get away from her, I’m gonna break you out.

But he didn’t. His throat stilled, constricted by a terrible silence.

And then Lusamine caught sight of him, and of Moon and Hau, and her gaze was a dagger. 

And Lillie finally called out to him. Gladion, she said. Brother.

Gladion matches the intensity of Lusamine’s stare. Mother, he says.

She laughs. Calling me mother? I don’t have any children. Certainly not any wretched children who would run off and reject my love.

That wasn’t love, he wanted to say. What you did to us wasn’t love.

So Lillie followed in the family tradition, too. Running away from Paradise after the disillusionment became too much to bear. He himself did it. 

So did their father, he thinks darkly.

And from there, life is a violent blur, distant corners of his life suddenly folding over each other. Skull’s secret client was none other than his very own mother. Guzma jumped through the wormhole with her. They let loose the Ultra Beasts and there is color and shouting and the world is soaked in Lusamine’s bloody monomania.

A lifetime ago, Gladion remembers his mother smiling at him. A genuine smile. She pats him on the head and tells him that she loves him, that she always would, because she’s his mother.

 

The dust settles. Lusamine is in a comatose state after being joined with and ripped from Nihilego.

Everyone reconvenes in Iki Town, on Melemele. The party’s on a perfect island evening, the breeze refreshing, chilled by the ocean. Hau yells something about someone bringing fireworks before tucking into a malasada.

There’s a huge crowd of people celebrating the closing of the portal, the placating of the mythical Pokémon. Gladion is sitting on a bench under a tree, sipping his juice, when someone comes to sit down next to him.

"We haven’t gotten a chance to talk yet." Lillie looks so different. For one, she’s grown taller in the past two years. She wears her hair in a ponytail now, and she’s ditched Lusamine’s dresses and heels for a skort and sneakers. More practical.

The biggest change, Gladion notes, is her face.

It’s still her face, same huge, emotive green eyes, but she carries herself differently now. She’s not scared and wringing her hands and letting it all show. For the first time, she looks genuinely relaxed. Confident. Happy.

Gladion smiles. "We haven’t."

This time, he’s the one who starts crying. Lillie’s surprised—how could she not be, when Gladion himself isn’t even sure what he’s doing? He is done with the hardened exterior, of letting the space around him suck him dry of feeling. His eyeliner mixes with the tears, dribbling darkened tracks from the corners of his eyes. Lillie pulls him in for a hug.

"I missed you, brother."

"I missed you too, sis. You wouldn’t believe how much." He wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his sweater. "Are you mad at me?"

"What?"

"For running away. Leaving you alone with her."

Lillie sobers, looking right into his eyes. "It was really hard to deal with her. You know she’s so obsessed with the Ultra Beasts because she thinks they’re what took daddy away?"

"Figured as much."

"It even got to the point where she started making me dress like them."

Gladion sniffs. "Creepy."

"I mean, with you gone, all her—well, attention, was on me. So I can’t really blame you for running away. Because. I know how you felt."

"Enough to make the same crazy, rash decision I did."

She laughs. "The way they treated Nebby in the lab was so freaky. Like it was a tool without feelings. I could tell they were hurting it, by the way they were handling it. So I stole it and ran away."

"Huh." Too familiar. Way too familiar.

They sit next to each other in continued silence, shoulders pressed together.

"I might have to go with her to Kanto. So she can get the right treatment." Lillie pauses, scanning her brother’s sour face. "You don’t have to come, if it’s too uncomfortable."

Gladion ignores this. "All I care about is that you’re okay."

"I’m so good!" Lillie is beaming. "I have friends for the first time! I have Auntie Burnet and Uncle Kukui, and Hapu too. I’m even going to start training Pokémon."

He cracks a smile. "I’m so happy for you, sis. Really. Every day after I left home, I thought about how all I wanted was for you to be happy."

"That’s what I thought about too. Whether or not you were okay. Where you were. What you were doing." She gives Gladion one of her weirdly perceptive stares, as if she’s seeing inside you and quantifying every one of your emotions. She always was a prodigy of emotional intelligence. "Are you happy, brother?"

Gladion’s eyes widen at the question. They trace the distant horizon and the glow of twilight, and drag back onto land.

For the first time in four years, at least, he’s able to tell her both the truth and what she wants to hear.

"Yeah. I am."

**Author's Note:**

> whew okay! ive always wanted to write about my hcs for what actually happened to make gladion run away and join team skull and i hope somebody found this answer as satisfying as i do, lol. i love gladion and lillie and i wish their relationship was explored further in canon, so heres this. the title and description are from the song ["cosmic hero" by car seat headrest,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dz1ly4Be0Wo) a song i listened to a lot when sumo first came out and i was playing it, and it's always reminded me of gladion. the gum thing is something kids at my elementary school said all the time. idk why i was thinking about it. who knows! memory is a funny thing. have fun guys


End file.
